The Distant Clue
The air in the St. Jude’s Asylum for the Insane does not merely circulate; it remembers, and I, Thomas Ashworth, twelve years old and the lowest of the low among the clerks, have spent the last three weeks trying to prove that this is a metaphor and not a fact, a distinction that Dr. Aris seems to find amusing enough to keep me in the archive room until the candles burn down to nubs of wax. I...
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